


Haru's Guide to Romance: Pocket Edition

by GirlyTomboy



Category: Free!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-25
Updated: 2015-10-25
Packaged: 2018-04-27 23:45:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5069533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GirlyTomboy/pseuds/GirlyTomboy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For most people, three times was the charm. For Haru, cheesy pick-up lines, Blackfish, and a trip to the hospital did the job.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Haru's Guide to Romance: Pocket Edition

“Makoto, be the grill to my mackerel.”

Makoto's head popped out from behind the doorway, his pair of vividly emerald eyes shining at the vague mention of his name.

“Huh? Haru, what did you say? You want grilled mackerel? But we already had some for lunch,” he asked. A feather duster was held in one hand, the other preoccupied with readjusting the green headband Haru remembered helping to pick out the day they moved in together as roommates. At the time Makoto had thought it natural for his best friend to do so. Frankly, Haru had just thought the shade brought out the color in his eyes and made him look all the more hotter.

“No, nothing. Sorry for disturbing you, Makoto,” he went back to reading his book (the one Makoto had given him because he thought the ocean on the front cover would have piqued his interest), the sudden dismissal earning a confused tilt of his roommate's head.

“Are you sure, Haru?” Makoto immediately took a seat besides Haru on the sofa and leaned in. A little bit too close for comfort it seemed, as he was refuted when his longtime friend suddenly jerked away and his book snapped shut with a terminating flick of his fingers.

“Mm, yeah.” Haru murmured. Makoto barely had time to blink before he was staring at the toned expanse of his back (the loose shirt left plenty of room for imagination). The normally nonplussed male's retreating figure promptly disappeared into one of the rooms, and he was left wondering what in the world had happened.

“Eh... Haru...?”

On the other side, Haru was collapsed over his table, regret and the slightest bit of embarrassment written on his face. A glance toward the now shut door to his room made him look away again, recollections of the conversation just seconds ago making him mentally cringe. 'I shouldn't have used mackerel...'

He sighed. Attempt number one, failed. 

Haru whipped out the notepad and pen he bought just for this occasion, the urge to rifle through it- or, in his now lamenting state, chuck it across the room- quite strong. 

“Rei was right...” He begrudgingly flipped to the very first page and crossed something off rather aggressively, the flow of neat lettering disrupted by an outlying, dark scribble. “Makoto...” Haru sulked. One attempt in, and he already felt like giving up. Sometimes he had to wonder how whatever deity above was able to bestow upon the young adult such artistic talent, yet the notion to give him even a single dollop of creativity was eluded entirely, seeing as he struggled to get his point across to his friend despite their close relationship. 

Haru sighed again. He seemed to be doing that lately, ever since he came up with the absolutely ingenious (and ballsy, if he had to say so himself) plan to partake in the courting of a certain Tachibana Makoto- his longtime best friend, roommate of two years, and just recently, the person he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, as cheesy as it was. 

The idea had randomly sprung up on him one day, when he had just finished his bath and was mid-step out of the tub, Makoto's hand already extended before him and his zany grin eliciting something within him he hadn't believed capable of being elicited.

'It'd be nice if I saw Makoto's face like this everyday,' Haru had thought. A catastrophically debauching thought it had been, seeing as he immediately knew he was absolutely done for. 

And now one reluctant trip to the office supply store and an even more regretful conversation with his high school swim team later, here he was, on a perilous journey to find the way into Makoto's heart. Honestly, the things he does when he's in love.

“Next on the list...?” Haru peered down at the notepad. The consternation he had felt when he uttered the stupid (at the time he thought it was brilliant, embarrassingly) line minutes ago had ebbed away. Determination was alight in his eyes as he shut the journal with a nod and tucked it into his bag.

Somewhere in the kitchen, Makoto watched worriedly as Haru finally emerged from his room and made his way out the door, muttering something incoherent under his breath and looking like he was about to punch someone in the face.

* * *

“Makoto, go to the movies with me.” Haru slammed his hands on the floor, palm smacking the area of tatami Makoto's head had been resting near before he was startled from his nap. “Huh...? H-Haru?” He mumbled, before failing to stifle a yawn as he rolled around to completely face the cause of his sudden awakening. 

“Movies. Right now. Get dressed.” A tone of finality was laced in Haru's words. Icy blue eyes didn't yield for even a second, Makoto's cute sleepy drawl and the way his own bleary pair gazed up in bemusement be damned.

“Mm. Five... more min-”

“No.”

“Haaaaaruuuu,” Makoto whined. Poor Haru was only given a short moment's notice before he was abruptly dragged into the sheets, a pair of toned arms trapping him in place. “It's too hoooooot, let's sleep for a bit...”

“Makoto!” Haru protested. His attempt at wriggling out only resulted in disaster, not to mention an unnecessary amount of sweat building up at his efforts. “This isn't like you, Makoto. Wake up. And it's not like in here is any different.” He had a plan and he was going to stick to it, dammit.

“We'll get ice cream after.”

Makoto was already putting on his shirt by the time he had finished that sentence.

“Haru, what are you waiting for?” His shoes were next, and then the keys, and then Haru himself as he dragged him outside, one of those genuine, all-too-Makoto smiles planted firmly on his beaming face. 'So innocent,' Haru found himself thinking.

He had absolutely no idea what was in store.

* * *

Of course, Haru hadn't either when he first made reservations to buy out the entire theater. Some alone time with Makoto to profess his undying love seemed ideal at the moment, but apparently only to him- seeing as the angry mob that had surrounded the local cinema was currently rioting and waiting for the idiot that decided to inadvertently flaunt his salary in all of their faces to show up.

“Uwah... There's a lot of people not getting in, Haru,” Makoto noted from his right. “We can go some other time, and besides, they all look pretty irritated...”

“Nonsense.” Haru walked up to the ticket usher. He cleared his throat. “Nanase Haruka. I was the one who rented this theater out for today. Two tickets to Blackfish, please.” Makoto stood to the side and watched for a moment before the information finally processed. Haru looked up to see him gaping at his best friend in both shock and confusion. 

“Haru?! You rented out the theater?!”

“Of course I did. Why do you look so shocked,” he blanched. The taller man spluttered. “Can you even afford to do that?! I-I know you're a professional swimmer and all but-”

“Makoto.” 

Makoto shut up. So far so good.

“Stop complaining and just enjoy it. My wallet will cry if you don't,” he tugged at Makoto's sleeve, and the two made their way to the entrance of the theater. Around them, the indignant protests and seething glares of the crowd went ignored. They were bound to leave eventually anyways, Haru rationed. Right?

'Of course they were,' he mulled as they walked into the cool, air-conditioned lobby. Haru immediately made his way to the snack counter to order their food and drinks, and was about to whip out his wallet when Makoto suddenly blocked him off, took out his own, and promptly paid for the both of them before Haru even had time to rebut.

“Geez,” he reprimanded. “Is this why you wanted to go to the movies that badly? I still don't understand why you wanted to rent this entire place out... You worked hard for your money, treasure it,” he shook his head, a reproving frown on his face. “I don't get you sometimes, Haru...”

Haru tried not to pout at seeing his friend's reprimanding expression. “I just don't like interacting with other people, and it's my money anyways... Besides,” he looked at the ground. “I... need to tell you something.”

“Hm?” Makoto's interest was piqued. It was now or never. 

“Makoto, I- For the longest time, I've-”

“Sir, Blackfish is the other way,” the worker directed the two to the opposite hall, all at once breaking Haru's train of thought and snapping him back to reason and reality. 'I almost blew it,' he realized, the intricate plan to finally woo Makoto over that had graced him in the span of his walk to the theater having been almost ruined because of his own lack of self-control. 

(In all due respect, he partially blamed Makoto's smile. Always his smile. He wouldn't be surprised if someone committed murder just to see that very same smile.)

“Thanks.” He muttered. From beside him Makoto voiced a hurried apology and turned the other way. For the most part he seemed to have forgotten about Haru's slip of the tongue.

“So what were you going to tell me?”

Or not.

“Makoto, for the longest time, I've noticed your fly was down.”

“What?! Why didn't you tell me sooner?!”

* * *

Attempt number two, failed.

It was not his fault, Haru convinced himself, not at all. Who the hell wouldn't have been entranced by Tilikum's tragic and bitter tale depicting the evils of corporate greed and captivity? Yes, of course, he was definitely not to blame.

To be fairly honest however, the professing of his undying love flew completely over his head during the entirety of the film. Or even the fact that he almost sorta kinda forgot Makoto was even sitting beside him, for that matter. Not when he was witness to such a gut-wrenching, eye-opening story.

Oh man, Haru hadn't had it this bad since Dolphin Tale.

“Do you want more tissues?” Makoto offered as they trudged out of the screening room. He was brushed off, of course, though the watery shine in Haru's eyes failed to belie any attempts at suaveness.

“No, I'm fine.”

“But you're teari-”

“Makoto.” Haru sniffled.

“See? You're not fine at all.”

“... Yes I am.” Haru denied. His post-movie feels, coupled with the revelation that the supposed confession he was supposed to grace Makoto's ears with did not come, had left him in a sour mood. Now he just wanted to go home and soak in the tub, with hopes his precious water will wash away the troublesome thoughts along with the dirt and regret of the day.

The two young men exited the theater. Thankfully the crowd had diminished by then, and there was no need to reserve the place any longer either. Somewhere far away, Haru's bank account started to metaphorically weep.

“Haru-chan, don't look so down.” 

“Drop the -chan,” he cut him off. “Let's just go home.” The stoic young man turned in the direction of their apartment, much to Makoto's hesitance. “Haru...? You sure you don't wanna grab something to eat?” It was nearing mid-afternoon, and usually a bored Haru would be absolutely itching to leave the dull apartment.

“Hn.” He grunted and shook his head. A frown pulled the corners of Makoto's lips down, the worry in his green eyes going unnoticed. Haru's back was turned towards him, and the expectancy for him to follow went unsaid. 

Fortunately for Makoto, he was an excellent Haru-reader.

With a counterintuitive strength no one ever really expected the gentle Makoto to use he grabbed his despondent friend by the shoulder. Haru let out a protest, but the sound soon died off when he was flashed a brilliant smile.

“You're hungry. Let's go, Haru-chan.”

“... I'm not-!”

“Yes you are. We're getting food.” Haru acquiesced to being led to the nearest restaurant, futile protests and all. Makoto refrained from pointing that out, not when the man in question looked two seconds from turning tail and fleeing.

“Makoto!”

“Haru-chan!” Makoto quipped. “Oh, we'll go swimming after! We haven't been to the Iwatobi pool in a long time, right?”

Haru paused.

“Okay, fine.”

* * *

Haru had to admit, this was the first time seeing someone eat made him turned on.

“You need to clean up after yourself,” he reprimanded, before handing Makoto the napkin. He took it with grateful hands. Makoto chuckled in between chews. “This is the first time Haru's ever scolded me about not taking care of myself,” he thoughtfully added.

“Mm.” Haru cast a sidelong glance at the empty table next to theirs. His own plate of food went practically untouched. Unfortunately, any appetite had long since been disregarded; there were more important matters at hand.

Namely, his next attempt to finally convey his feelings for a certain olive-haired, unbelievably dense Makoto.

Haru reached into his pocket, his handy dandy notepad laying hidden from Makoto's sight. Eyes perusing for some mention of cafes and dates in the recesses of neat scripture, he failed to catch Makoto's lingering gaze on him. Behind them, a couple laughed boisterously.

“Haru, you okay?”

“Hn?” Haru snapped his gaze back up at the mention of his name, seemingly caught off-guard. His shining, blue eyes were wider than usual, mouth opening a bit. For the most part it felt like he was only then noticing Makoto's presence, the taller man noted.

The thought made his stomach churn uneasily.

“Well,” Makoto started. “You've been kinda weird today.”

“What are you implying?” Haru was quick to rebut, his statement more a demand than anything. It certainly wasn't un-Haru-like, not at all. But what with the way his stare wandered at times, not to mention how he would take furtive glances at something only he could see, it was no wonder it had added to Makoto's already building suspicion.

“I'm not implying anything, of course not!” He protested. “It's just, I'm worried about Haru-chan and-”

“Drop the -chan.” 

Haru pulled back his seat, and with a nod, stood up and abruptly made his way to the restroom. A bemused Makoto was left to ponder the day's events as he tried desperately to recall if he had somehow upset his dear friend in any way.

'It has to be now.' 

There was simply no other way, Haru thought the moment he opened the door to the men's restroom. A quick splash of water to wash himself up, and then he was already making his way out. He had stalled long enough, and despite the weird butterflies he got in his belly every time they exchanged looks, he was determined.

He, Nanase Haruka, was going to confess to Tachibana Makoto.

It was strange, he couldn't help but wonder as he made his way back to his awaiting friend. He had always thought something as simple as an, “I love you, Makoto. Go out with me,” would come naturally to him, no preempted romanticism necessary. They had known each other long enough; what was a single love confession? No doubt their friendship would remain the same no matter what Makoto felt, that he knew for sure.

… He blamed Nagisa and Rin.

A chanced encounter between his old swim team had turned into frequent meetings, and that fateful day both Makoto and Rei were too busy to witness had churned things into motion, for better or worse. Nagisa's and Rin's incessant pleas for Haru to “open his damn eyes” and realize that water wasn't all there was to life (he had protested vehemently at the absurd notion at the time) had him thinking for quite a bit, and, much to his annoyance and their delight, had realized soon enough that they were right.

'Never thought I'd see the day...'

“Oh? Haru, why are you just standing there?” Makoto beckoned toward Haru, the recognizable lilt in his voice snapping the latter out of his reverie just in time for him to notice that he had been in fact reminiscing while standing completely still in the middle of the cafe, no doubt whilst looking like an idiot.

He truly questioned his ability to multitask, sometimes.

“Huh? Oh, nothing.” Haru dismissed quickly enough, and briskly walked to their table. Makoto wasn't even issued a warning before the former slammed his hands against the wood, determination borderline anger shining brilliantly in ocean blue eyes.

“Makoto, I-”

“HOW DARE YOU, YOU CONNIVING BASTARD!”

“WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU CALLING BASTARD, SNEAKY ASS BITCH!”

If Haru's action wasn't enough to garner some attention, the sudden outbursts from the couple behind them was sure to.

The woman, who was seated facing Makoto's back, had pushed her chair back so far it fell. Tears were leaking from her eyes as a makeup stained path trailed down her face. Similarly, the man's cheeks and ears were bright red, and he too looked like he was about to pop a vein any minute now.

“YOU CHEATED ON ME. I THOUGHT YOU LOVED ME!”

“I THOUGHT SO TOO! HELL, I CONFESSED TO YOU HERE! NEXT THING I KNOW, YOU'RE FUCKING WHORING YOURSELF OUT WITH ANOTHER MAN-”

"DON'T PLAY DUMB WITH ME! WHO WAS THAT BITCH I SAW YOU HUGGING AND KISSING THE OTHER DAY?!”

“YOU MEAN MY SISTER?!”

Past the obscenities, Haru's ears perked at the mention of the guy confessing his love in the very same cafe, and was in the midst of formulating a vague plan to approach him (after they verbally murdered each other, of course) when a loud shatter added to the commotion.

The woman had swiped her plate clean off the table in her attempt to lunge at him. Warning bells immediately rang in Haru's head as he took note of the proximity of a possibly deranged, most likely psychologically damaged woman to their own table, Makoto specifically.

Unfortunately, he realized a bit too late, and before he even had the chance to pull his unsuspecting friend to safety she had already reached for her cup. With a yank of her arm she swung the mug, missed, and watched in blinded fury as piping hot coffee spilled all over some olive-haired man she'd never seen before in her life.

“M-Makoto!”

Before a dazed Makoto could begin to fathom why he was suddenly covered in steaming coffee, and why there was a stinging pain on his scalp, neck, and back, Haru had already grabbed him by the shoulders with every intention of whisking him away. A hasty apology wasn't nearly satisfactory enough, and with a murderous glare he threw some money onto the table and dragged Makoto out.

* * *

“Haru, stop looking at me like that.”

“...”

“Haru-chan.”

“Drop the -chan.”

Makoto toweled his hair with a sheepish grin. “I'm fine, really. You didn't need to go out of your way to do that, I mean a simple apology was enough,” he rationalized, ever the pacifist. 

Haru, on the other hand, had ignored him and was too preoccupied staring at the blotchy skin of Makoto's neck intently. Brilliant ocean eyes regarded him under close scrutiny, and in a vain attempt at modesty the latter rubbed his hand against the red skin.

“Stop that. You'll make it worse.”

“Eheh, sorry...” He reluctantly placed his hand in his lap. An awkward silence soon filled the air, with Makoto fidgeting in his seat and Haru in deep contemplation. A beat passed. Haru sighed.

“You're okay?”

“H-Huh?” Makoto tore his gaze from the interesting spot on the wall to look at him, his confused expression eliciting something strange in the young man.“Of course I am,” he immediately quipped, eyes lighting up at the prospect of a no longer upset Haru. “Some coffee isn't going to kill me,” Makoto chuckled.

“...Fine, then.”

“Hehe, Haru was worried about me?” He playfully nudged his shoulder, only to be dismissed as Haru ducked his head in lieu of replying. No matter, Makoto was still pretty satisfied at the shift in mood. A more tranquil silence soon ensued, with neither party speaking as they sat in a comfortable lull. 

“Makoto, let's go swimming.”

* * *

Haru's slender fingers cut a path as his body glided along, every semblance of grace and finesse etched in his being the more he merged as one with the water. Similarly, he felt Makoto's unwavering presence in the lane beside him, more a habitual instinct than anything else. Feet touched concrete as they both launched back, the distorted surroundings focusing as he emerged from the water first. Makoto followed with a splash, his body a stark contrast to the rippling blue.

Haru watched as he got out of the pool and waited for him to extend his hand. He always did, without fail. There was a time, he recalled with such startling clarity, when they had finally come into contact with each other after several years apart-- when frantic, post-high school lives had somewhat settled and when reminiscing the old days of close-knit swim teams and impromptu sleepovers felt necessary. 

Naturally, Haru had reunited with his childhood friend first, and their reunion outing had consisted of a visit to Iwatobi and old man Sasabe, quickly followed by a couple of laps around the community pool. There Makoto had reached out to him, just like he did in their childhood days, like nothing had ever happened. Like time had never passed and they were naive high school kids again.

“Haru?”

“Huh?” Haru snapped his head up so fast Makoto was afraid he'd have gotten whiplash. His hand was still outstretched, awaiting fingers subsequently filling his vision.

“You're spacing out again...” Makoto frowned.

“Am not.”

“Haru, you stood there for a good ten seconds staring at my crotch.”

“M-Makoto!” Haru flushed and looked away, shocked being the understatement of the year. A light pink dusted his cheeks at the vulgarity of innocent Makoto's words, yet he still took the proffered hand. An idea popped into his head.

Makoto tugged. Taking that as his cue, Haru, being the ingenious Tachibana-wooer that he was, tugged back with every intention to pull him into the pool again. He swore he had seen it in a movie once, so of course it was like, a hundred percent guaranteed to work. Right? 

Makoto yelped, scared for his life as he suddenly lurched forward. He had every reason to be, considering that Haru, in his 'no-fucks-given' state, had miscalculated the distance between the water and the actual cement. Instead of meeting Haru's lips like he planned, Makoto hit the edge of the pool with a worrisome 'thunk,' scraped his shins along the way, and saw white right before he lost consciousness.

Oops.

“Makoto?! Makoto!”

With all thoughts of his romantic confession abandoned, Haru panicked as he dove into the water to pull a bruised Makoto back up. He had fucked up already, no need to let the poor man drown.

'Let's look on the bright side,' he rationalized. 'He hit his head, maybe he'll forget this ever happened in the first place...'

Oh crap. Makoto hit his head.

* * *

“H-Haru...?” A blurred mosaic of jet black hair, ocean eyes, and tan skin focused into view as bleary eyes blinked open. Makoto grumbled something incoherent, the pounding headache he could already feel coming rendering him lackadaisical. 

“H-Huh? What happened...?” The scent of crisp linen and sterility wafted from around him. 

Makoto hated the hospital. 

“You're awake?” Haru's familiar voice broke in, his usually stoic tone laced with caution and relief at the same time. Makoto heard underlying hints of guilt mixed in. With a heave he pushed himself up, despite his friend's quiet protest.

“I hit my head, I think? What'd the doctor say?”

“I-I-” Haru stuttered. “M-Makoto-! It was my-” He stumbled on his words for a bit, grunted, and then settled for a despondent sigh. “... Sorry.”

Makoto frowned. “For what?”

“I pulled you into the pool. You got hurt because of me.”

“Ah, that?” His lips tilted upward. Warmth radiated in his eyes. “It was an accident, Haru. You didn't mean it.”

“But-!”

“Would you rather I hate you for the rest of your life?”

That shut him up.

“And besides,” Makoto paused, before wrapping a hand around Haru's collar and pulling him into a loose embrace.

“I'll forgive you, since I love you so much.”

“You-... huh?”

Haru froze, the words having taken him aback. One second he was being pressed against Makoto's shirt and the next he was gazing into pools of vivid green as the hands around his waist moved to cup his cheeks. Makoto sighed airily before shaking his head.

“Haru-chan is more naive than he thinks, y'know.” The playful lilt in his voice failed to belie the serious undertone Makoto's confession held-- he was, undoubtedly, fully committed to Haru, probably had been for a while now, and was determined to spend the rest of his life being so.

The thought sent pleasant chills down Haru's spine.

Or maybe it was Makoto choosing just at that moment to dip his hands underneath Haru's shirt. 

“W-Wai- Mako...to-!”

“Hmph?” Makoto had his nose in the crook of Haru's shoulder, his body languidly pausing as he absentmindedly replied, the muffled sound most likely being the only acknowledgment the latter was going to get.

“You mean, all this time?”

“Yes, Haru. All this time. Ever since I saw your face for the first time in who-knows-how-long.” Haru sat dumbfounded as he soaked in Makoto's words. “Then...”

“Then I love you.”

“...I see...”

Makoto sighed and pulled away, the absence of his warmth vaguely alarming to the dazed Haru. “You don't seem all that ha-”

It was Makoto's turn to be surprised, as one moment he was releasing his hold on the dark-haired man and the next he was being shoved down as Haru's lips crushed his. The sudden contact elicited a small squeak from him, Haru's arbitrary push the last thing thing he was expecting.

Not that he was complaining. 

“Love you too,” Haru absentmindedly breathed. One hand had tangled itself in Makoto's tresses, the other busy roaming the vast expanse of his clothed (not for long) torso. At this point the larger man had practically melted, hands clawing at Haru's shirt like his life depended on it. He deepened the kiss, tongue tentatively pushing past all too welcoming lips. In the midst of fervent, unrestrained touches, needy kisses, and almost getting kicked out by the nurse, Haru made a mental note to burn the damn notepad that started it all.

On the contrary, Makoto made a vow to read its contents on his own time, the weight of the small thing having been resting comfortably underneath his pillow the entire time.

**Author's Note:**

> actually my first makoharu fic...... somewhat regretting this....


End file.
